


The Great Achievement Hunter Plague (Of 2014)

by magicitself



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, Sick Fic, myan centric, takes place during the filming of the monopoly let's play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicitself/pseuds/magicitself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tail-end of Winter brought about a bad case of the flu with Michael, and weeks later he was still sick - only now, so was Ryan. Geoff just never thought that sending the two of them home to get some rest would result in this mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Achievement Hunter Plague (Of 2014)

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written right after the Monopoly Let's Play came out. Michael's concern for Ryan was absolutely adorable, and the fact that Ryan was sick because Michael had been the Patient Zero of it all was even more adorable. This has been sitting on my computer for weeks now, and I've finally finished the last few parts that were missing.

It had started during the Monopoly Let’s Play.

An argument could be made that it had started before - because it _had_. It had all started with Michael, the first one who came in coughing and sneezing and sounding worse for wear.

“You sound terrible, boi.” Gavin would comment during editing one day, and Michael would sniff, shoving his beanie down further on his head.

“I _feel_ terrible, Gavin.” He’d reply, only to gain a soft “aww, Michael!” of a coo from Gavin, and finding himself with a lapful of boyfriend.

It continued that way, the sickness, for a solid _three weeks_. Three weeks full of frustration and a hacking laugh-cough combo, burning eyes and a congested nose.

It was nowhere near as bad as _Ryan_ , though, once the virus hit the older man.

“Hi, Michael.”

“Christ!” Michael spun around, nearly dropping his backpack that he’d been holding onto from the strap, and furrowed his eyebrows. “... _Ryan?_ ” He asked, unsure of what he heard.

Ryan gave a nod, and when he opened his mouth and spoke next, Michael was a little terrified.

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and rough, cracking at the edges and Michael really thought he sounded like a 90 year old chain-smoker on his death bed. Ryan paused, frowning. “I think I’m sick.”

“No shit. What gave you _that_ idea?” Michael asked, both amusement and concern leaking into his voice.

“What gave who what idea now?”

Both Michael and Ryan turned around, and Michael jerked his thumb over at Ryan’s way when he faced Geoff. “Ryan’s sick.” He said simply, and Geoff’s eyes softened.

“Aw, buddy! Feel like taking the day off today?” He asked, but Ryan shook his head.

“Nah. I’m fine.” At both Geoff and Michael’s dubious looks, Ryan sighed. “I’ll be fine! I promise. It’s really not as bad as it sounds.”

“If you say so.” Geoff said slowly, not looking all too convinced, but he was turning away already. “Be sure to take some medicine and pills with you anyway. And if you start feeling dizzy or hacking up a lung, you’re taking the rest of the day off. Whether it’s fucking 10 am or 3 pm.”

“Sounds fair.” Ryan agreed, but as he clambered into the car, squished between a giggling Ray and Gavin, he knew that he had no plans of taking the day off, no matter what the other guys said. He felt _fine_ , honestly! A little under the weather sure but nothing he couldn’t handle. And besides, they had a Let’s Play to film today, anyway.

* * *

 

Michael shoved the headphones off of his head, sniffing and rubbing at his burning nose. After nearly _three hours_ , the Let’s Play was _finally_ over. Everyone was drained and miserable, Ray and Ryan especially.

“I hope you’re happy with yourselves,” Michael heard Ray grumble, but despite the irritation in his voice there wasn’t any real anger.

Geoff and Gavin gave weak laughs, and Geoff shook his head. “Trust me, Ray. We’re about as happy as you are right now.” He said honestly.

“It was a right pain building it.” Gavin added, stretching back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. “Almost as tiring as listening to you dopes bicker around and Ryan inch closer to death every round.” He grinned cheekily, eyeing the sick Gent who rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

But he coughed a second later, a hacking, wet sounding noise that made everyone in the office wince, and Michael shifted in his chair uneasily.

“Someone get this guy home,” He said. “Seriously -- you sound _fucking_ **_terrible_** , Ryan. Absolutely _terrible_.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Ryan repeated, for the tenth time that day, and Michael snorted.

“You sound like you’ve spent the entire day sucking Death’s dick.” Was his smarmy reply, but Geoff was shaking his head across the room and standing up.

“No, no. Michael’s right. You need to get home. We can’t have you infecting the office just because your stupid ass feels ‘fine’. You’re taking the rest of today off, and maybe even tomorrow until you sound better.”

“What?” Was Ryan’s indignant exclamation. “But the day’s almost over! There’s no point going home now.”

“No, there’s no point staying. We finished the Let’s Play but there’s still half the day left. Half a day you can spend resting.”

“He’s right,” Jack chimed in, and Ryan turned his frown on the redhead. Jack was unsympathetic towards the look. “Sorry, but I don’t feel like getting sick because of you, and I don’t think the fans would appreciate us sounding the same while we’re both _sick_ , either.”

That gained a few scattered chuckles here and there, and Michael grinned after he recovered from his tiny cough afterwards, sniffling.

“See? So it’s settled. Rye Bread goes home.”

Geoff nodded. “It’s settled.” He paused. “And you’re going home with him.”

“What?” Michael asked, swiveling around in his chair to face Geoff with an open mouth, and it was Ryan’s turn to smirk.

“You’re sick too.” Was Geoff’s simply reply, and he didn’t even look at Michael when he said it, angering the other. “Maybe you don’t _sound_ as sick as Ryan here, but you still are. Get rid of that nasty cough.”

* * *

 

The car ride back home was uneventful, save for the occasional sniffle from Michael and violently loud sneeze from Ryan. As soon as they were in front of their house, Michael and Ryan clambered out, Ryan murmuring a quiet ‘thanks’ to Jack.

“No problem, Ryan.” He looked over to where Michael was fiddling with the zipper of his backpack, fishing out his keys. “Michael.” He said, loudly, and Michael looked up, the ghost of a scowl written across his lips. “You guys get some rest, alright? **Both** of you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Michael replied, waving Jack’s concerns off, and he stood up straight once he had his keys in his hands, walking up to the front door and unlocking it.

Ryan gave Jack an apologetic look, and Jack gave a sigh in return before leaning up and to the side to press a kiss to Ryan’s cheek.

“Seriously. Go sleep so you can get better. We’ll be back soon, alright?”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Ryan replied teasingly, and gave a nasally giggle from the back of his throat before pressing his lips together tightly and holding back a cough.

He stepped back, fist to his hand as he coughed into it, and waved Jack off as he put the car back into drive and drove off. Ryan didn’t stand there for too long, though. Even though it was Winter, it was still hot in Texas, and Ryan wasn’t really up to passing out in the middle of the sidewalk thanks to heat exhaustion coupled with a fever. He could already feel himself getting a little light-headed and dizzy, and his eyelids drooped a little despite his effort to keep his eyes open.

The only reason he’d gotten sick in the first place was because of Michael, and the reason Michael had gotten sick was because of the rapidly fluctuating temperature between days, where it was cold one afternoon and hot the next.

So, he followed Michael inside the house.

Michael immediately bee-lined for the kitchen, shoving the straps of his backpack off of his shoulders and letting it fall onto the couch. “Go take a shower or something,” He called out from the kitchen to Ryan, opening the fridge door but pausing as he strained to hear movement. “Hey, Ryan!” Michael said, his voice a little louder, and when Ryan didn’t respond after a few seconds, he shut the fridge door and peered out the opening of the kitchen.

Ryan was slumped against the door, face red and eyes feverish and glassy. He was sweating like a pig despite the weather being cool today, and Michael cursed before making his way over to Ryan quickly.

“You’re fine, huh?” Michael questioned sarcastically, hefting Ryan up by shrugging one of Ryan’s arms around his shoulders and letting the older man lean on him.

“I am.” Ryan huffed, but his voice was nasally and raspy. “I’m just--” He paused, face scrunching up a little before he turned his head and _hacked_. Michael winced sympathetically at the sound.

“C’mon big guy,” He murmured, and began leading them both to the bedroom. “Let’s get you to bed. I’ll fix you a nice chicken soup later, get you some antibiotics, the whole nine yards.”

Ryan, admitting defeat when he saw it, just gave a sigh. “Sounds nice.” He mumbled back honestly. He was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to be on his feet anymore or trying to focus his eyes on editing content he couldn’t really concentrate on or really see.

So Michael thought he had won, relieved himself that he wouldn’t have a squirming, struggling 150 pounds of Ryan that wouldn’t want to get into bed. He’d be able to get some rest too - even if ‘rest’ didn’t exactly mean shut eye. It more meant ‘take care of Ryan’s ass and play video games when I can’.

But as Michael sat Ryan down on the bed and moved to stack up the pillows for him and pull back the covers, Ryan scooted up and laid down, letting out a content sigh as his eyes drooped shut before grasping Michael’s wrist and attempting to pull him down into the bed as well.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Michael asked, pulling against Ryan.

“Geoff said you needed to rest too, Michael.”

“Me? I’m fine. You on the other hand-”

“See, I _sound_ sick, but you’re _actually_ sick, Michael. There’s a difference.”

Michael snorted. “Yeah, the difference is you almost keeled over in the doorway and I didn’t.”

Ryan’s lips pulled down into a tiny frown, a crease working its way into his skin between his eyebrows, and Michael let out a sigh at the sight of it.

“One of us has to get the medicine and the food, and it’s not gonna be you, Ryan, let’s be realistic here. I’ll sleep when I need it, I’m not fucking stupid, but right now? The bed’s all yours.”

“Alright...But just letting you know, I’m not very good at sharing when I’m asleep.” Slowly, Ryan’s grasp on Michael’s wrist loosened, until his hand fell away completely, and Michael pushed the covers up and onto the older man.

“Get some fucking sleep, sickhead.” He mumbled, although it wasn’t said harshly.

“Night, Michael."

* * *

 

When Michael had left Ryan, had closed the door of the bedroom behind him, Ryan’s breathing had already evened out to a slow, steady tempo that spoke of sleep. Just looking at the guy was enough to make _Michael_ sleepy, but he forced back the itchiness in his eyes and the stuffiness in his head to make them both something to eat.

( Hot soup on a hot day with a hot fever. Yeah. Who the fuck ever thought _that_ was a good idea? )

So, color Michael surprised when he came back into the room an hour later with a tray full of chicken noodle soup, crackers, and orange juice, and found Ryan sitting up in bed, flipping through TV channels.

“What the fuck? Why’re you awake?"

Lowering the remote slowly, like he’d been caught red-handed in a criminal act but didn’t know how to react, Ryan’s expression turned guilty.

“I’m not tired. I couldn’t fall asleep.” He rasped out pitifully, and Michael felt a pang of sympathy go out for the man. He sounded like fucking shit.

But then Michael saw the laptop, half-hidden under the covers, and any shred of empathy for Ryan went out the window.

“So you’re fucking _working?_ What the fuck, Ryan! Don’t you know the meaning of _rest?_ ” Michael questioned frustratedly, walking over and setting the tray down on the bedside table and reaching over Ryan to grab the laptop.

But Ryan was sneakier than he looked (and he already looked pretty fucking sneaky by Michael’s standards) and was quick on the draw, one hand covering Michael’s and another pulling Michael down and in with an arm around the smaller man’s waist.

“Oof! Fucking -- _Ryan!_ ” Michael protested, wiggling against the other man’s body. He was splayed out sideways on the bed, feet off the floor and Ryan refusing to let him get up. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable in any way, the covers were fluffy and Ryan was always a comfortable person to fall asleep on, but considering Geoff had sent them both home to get some rest? This was pretty fucking counter-productive.

“You’ve gotta rest too, Michael.”

“And I will! But someone’s gotta take care of _your_ ass, first!”

“Does it _look_ like I need to be taken care of?” Ryan countered, sounding a little frustrated himself, and even though his voice was cracking and croaky, he had a point - he was still fighting Michael inch for inch and not giving any ground away.

With a scowl, Michael stopped squirming and settled down, glasses a bit askew on his face and cheeks a little rosy from exertion. He was still sick, after all, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to catch his breath and not let out a wheezing cough proved it. And judging by the narrowing of Ryan’s eyes and his soothing hand rubbing up and down Michael’s back, he’d noticed, too.

“Come on, Michael.” He murmured gently. “I appreciate that you want to look out for me, but _I’ve_ gotta look out for _you_ , too. It’s a two-way street here.”

There was silence from Michael’s end as he and Ryan stared at each other. Eventually, though, Ryan could see his expression slacken, could see something in his eyes give way, and he gave a tiny smile of satisfaction when Michael gave a tiny sigh.

“Can you at least let me go so I can lay down? As comfortable as you are, this position really isn’t.”

“Oh.” Ryan lifted his arms, letting Michael free, and he gave a small sheepish smile to the younger man. “Sorry.” He murmured, a small laugh breaking free at the sight of Michael’s nonplussed face.

“No you’re not, don’t fucking lie to me.” Was Michael’s reply, but despite the harsh words they weren’t heated at all and as Michael clambered up the bed and next to Ryan, Ryan could see a hint of a smile playing on the other man's lips.

“You’re right. I’m not. Can you blame me, though?” Ryan asked, but didn’t ask again when Michael didn’t deem him with a proper response other than to slide underneath the covers and press close to Ryan’s side.

Michael relaxed, his eyes already starting to slip shut before he remembered to take his glasses off and he clumsily threw them onto the bedside table. Too tired, he didn’t bother to open his eyes wide enough to see where they had landed exactly.

They were quiet for a moment, only the sound of a bird chirping faintly coming through the window, bleak white sunlight falling through the part in the curtains and laying a strip of brightness on the edge of the bed. Michael broke it. “The soup’s gonna get cold. I cooked that shit nice and hot, too. All that TLC gone to waste.” Michael murmured.

“Not all of it.” Ryan hummed, and let out a content sound as Michael turned on his side to drape his arm across Ryan’s chest. Ryan’s own arm reached up to wind behind and around Michael’s shoulders and pull him closer. “Besides…” He forced back a yawn, sleep beginning to tread into his vision as well. “We can always eat soup later.”

But Michael, already well on his way to falling asleep, wasn’t listening, and Ryan found himself following close behind.

* * *

 

When the other guys came home, they came in quietly, the only noise they made coming from the press of their shoes against the floor and the occasional giggle from Gavin as he tried - and failed - to be sneaky.

After they each split up to individually check the different rooms, they still hadn’t seen any sign of Ryan or Michael until Jack called for them all to go to the master bedroom bedroom.

“Shhh.” He whispered harshly, looking pointedly at Gavin as he almost stumbled into the door and knocked his head on it. “They’re sleeping.”

“Pfff. Look at them. Michael looks so peaceful!” Gavin whispered, sounding amused.

“Well I’ll be damned. I really thought we’d have to put Michael to bed ourselves.” Geoff murmured, and rubbed at the side of his face. There was a relieved smile on his lips, though, and Jack smiled himself at the sight of it.

“I guess Ryan took care of that part for us.” Jack replied. “God...just looking at them is making _me_ sleepy.”

“Yeah, right?” Ray’s brows jumped up, and he was already shucking off his shoes. Geoff, Jack, and Gavin looked at him in confusion. “What? A guy can’t take off his shoes in his own house? I’m tired! Gimme a break, I wanna sleep too.”

“I think we all do,” Geoff said, bemusedly, and held back a soft laugh at Ray’s baffled exclamation. “So, the only question is, are we going to sleep with Patient Zero and his partner, or are we sleeping in the guest room tonight?”

But it seemed like Ray had already made his decision, and he placed his shoes in the room. “Fuck that. I want my own bed, my _real_ one, tonight. I’ll pray to my man Lil J up there so I won’t get sick and if I do - tell my mom I love her and Crusty the Bear’s name used to be Brown the Bear before - well. He got crusty.”

Geoff had to press his hand to his lips to stifle the bark of laughter that wanted to come out, but Gavin followed in Ray’s footsteps.

“I’m comin’ with you, Ray!” He whispered. “I wanna cuddle with Michael. He never cuddles with me like that!”

“Aw, is Gavin jealous?” Jack asked teasingly, but he was taking his shoes off as well and stepping into the room.

With a soft squawk, Gavin spluttered. “No!” He whispered hotly. “...It’s just not fair! How come _Ryan_ gets to cuddle with him like that?”

“Maybe because he can shut the fuck up when I tell him to.” Michael grumbled from beneath the covers, and everyone froze.

Geoff and Ray giggled.

There was a heavy sigh from the bed again, a shift of movement, and a few curls from the top of Michael’s head could be seen from beneath the covers.

“Fucking hurry the fuck up if you wanna sleep here, or else I’ll kick all of you out. I’m already awake but Ryan’s still asleep.”

“Sorry, boi.” Gavin giggled, but they all took Michael’s warning to heart and quickly - but quietly, this time - changed into new clothing, shucked off their shoes, and slid into bed.

Gavin was pressed up against Michael, Geoff on his back beside Gavin, and Ray had pressed up against Ryan’s back with Jack’s arms around him. It was a bit of a tight fit, all things considering how much space Michael and Ryan had taken up (and refused to give up), and it had automatically gone from ‘warm summer day’ to ‘burning hot furnace’ but -

it was comfortable, and Michael found himself slipping back to sleep happily, nestled in the middle of all of his favorite boys.

* * *

 

A week later, and Michael was back to his usual self. There was still a hint of a cough in his voice when he spoke sometimes, but he didn’t have to deal with a runny nose or a stuffy head any longer.

But flu season was a gift that kept on giving, and while Michael had dealt with his bug successfully, he had still been contagious.

“You-” Pausing, soft ‘ah’s escaping him as his nose scrunched up and his shoulders tensed, head ducking a little as he prepared himself, Gavin let out a loud sneeze that propelled him backwards. He let out a small ‘oof’, even as Geoff let out a loud “Ow!” in response to Gavin’s elbow digging into his chest.

“Gavin!” Geoff exclaimed, and Gavin giggled quietly to himself, shifting forwards with a bemusedly guilty look.

“Sorry, Geoff.” He apologized, and splayed out across Jack instead, who only grunted in response and blew into his tissue. Gavin scrunched up his nose again, but for a different reason.

“Gross, Jack!” Gavin shouted, and gave a grin at Jack’s following glower.

“I’m sick, asshole.” He mumbled, words muffled and nasally thanks to the tissue and the mucus.

“Yeah, so’s everyone else. Other than _Michael_ , that is. And Ryan.”

And at that, everyone turned to look at the man in question, giving a series of frowns and displeased looks, and Ryan, who was stuck in the middle of the sick pile of men, blinked owlishly.

“Hey, what’re you looking at _me_ for? I’m still sick!” He protested, and gave a cough to prove it. “Besides, isn’t it technically _your_ fault anyway? I mean I’m not saying I know everything you guys do but it kinda seems to me like maybe there weren’t enough vitamins going around…You know...Some people came in with short-sleeves and no scarves and really, it was kind of obvious you’d all get sick at one point when you guys _refused_ to sleep without Michael and I-”

“Shut the hell up, Ryan.” Geoff grumbled, and Gavin let out a mix between a scoff and a snicker.

“Yeah, just ‘cause we’re not in protective biohazard suits doesn’t mean you get to snort your fluid all over us. The green kind, anyway. The white is debatable.” Ray piped up, and there was a wave of giggles between all of them at that - Geoff’s eyes crinkling at the corners and Jack smiling behind his tissue, Ryan letting out soft hiccuping laughs and Gavin whispering a small 'aw, Ray! Gross!'

“Well...I mean...you know...Things happen and-”

Before Ryan could dig himself a deeper hole trying to escape his current one and pass the blame off, the door to the bedroom opened and all five pair of eyes focused on the figure entering the room with bowls of soup and paper cups filled with pills.

“Huh.” Michael said, pausing in the doorway when he looked up to see all of them tangled up in each other, a mix of tired red eyes and runny noses and rat’s nest hair, limbs every which way (well, mostly Gavin’s). “Guess no one’s good at taking orders here and going to fucking sleep.”

He ignored everyone’s stare on him, some more menacing and less forgiving than others (Geoff, Jack) and some grumpy but slightly amused (Gavin and Ray). Michael ignored every stare except for one, the one with a bright grin and bright eyes, with the sly curve to his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

Looking over at Ryan, Michael grinned back at him.

“Well, what do you say, boys?” He asked, and tore his gaze away from Ryan’s to scan over the others, snickering at their grouchy expressions.

“Let’s get rid of those nasty coughs.”

 


End file.
